Ice and Angel
by MindRiddler
Summary: There's always a story, even behind the careers. And this is the story of a boy with a heart and eyes like ice and his angel.
1. For the first time

His brows furrowed as he watched her. Her calm demeanor and the precision of which she threw her knives; they weren't just knives, it was as though they were alive and flying and dancing in the air. His lips pressed together firmly as he watched, almost envious of how much attention she received from the instructors because she was the new favourite. He was favourite once.

All this watching he did while sparring with an opponent of his own who was not nearly as skilled as he was and would have already been beaten had it not been for him being distracted by _her_. He gave up on watching because it as the same thing over and over. She would flick her wrist so quickly it was a blur and the targets would get struck by blades that nearly penetrated through them completely. Turning back to his opponent, a boy of bigger build than he was but no way quick enough with his blade to survive if he ever got into a battle against another career in the games. Sure, he'd survive the initial struggle against the other, weaker districts, but near the end, when it was just the careers fighting their own brutal battle, a million shooting stars of luck was what he needed to win.

As soon as training was over he jogged up to her, mouth opening to make a witty remark about the attention she was receiving but the words never made it out. They had decided to force themselves back the other way because he saw her up close and you couldn't possibly speak around her because her beauty had this way of stunning you into silence. But she had seen him now and they both stopped in the middle of the path. An eyebrow raised cockily, "Can I help you with something?" Her voice came out wasn't real couldn't be real because it was akin to that of a thousand angels all at once. And for the second time that day his lips pressed hard together to prevent him from saying something he'd regret.

There was a part of him that was his parents' child and it reprimanded him for being such a sap because that wasn't what a career was or ever could be. They were emotionless killing machines trained from the beginning to win or die. Winning was all Cato had ever known and the latter wasn't even a possibility in his realm but something new was inching its way into his world and it was feelings. He actually felt something when he saw her up close and it wasn't jealousy or anger but something fresh and tantalizing and he had no idea what it was.

Still, he hadn't said anything and she was becoming impatient and turned to leave him in the dust. Without realizing his hand shot out to grab her elbow and she turned back quickly and flipped him over out of instinct. The breath flew out of his lungs and his eyes were wide as they stared up at her. She stood above him cockily with a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised just staring at him expectantly. His mind finally registered that for the first time he'd been bested and a incredulous grin crept onto his face as he quickly stood in an attempt to regain a little dignity. He found that he didn't mind being beaten as long as it was by her because for some reason she was worth it.

"So what's your name?" he finally spoke, sounding breathy because he still hadn't quite regained his breath. He watched as her expression crumpled into one of confusion which quickly flitted to curiosity and then just went neutral. "Clove," she said shortly before moving down the path again and this time he didn't stop her or move to follow.


	2. Coming back for seconds

He was growing more distracted as each day passed, that one time meeting constantly on his mind, teasing him, making him want more. A growl ripped out of his mouth as he was nearly disarmed and he retaliated the attack with fervor. The air flowed heavily through his nostrils as he stared at his pinned down opponent beneath the point of his sword and foot, finally snapping out of the distracted stupor he'd been in. For once he didn't know whether it was the blood lust or the thought of her that caused the trance.

He pulled away his blade, turning his back and watching her instead - still the favourite for now. He couldn't help it; this constant watching of his, she was just so… Fascinating. The way her body moved so fluidly as she ran and the way her knives weren't just inanimate weapons but her pet; a flying hunter that did her bidding. This longing to talk to her was overwhelming but he couldn't act on it because it would make him seem eager and desperate to her and he could not show any weakness. He knew she was a true career, a ruthless one too; the very definition of it. Any weakness she would exploit because that was what careers did; anything to benefit themselves.

"I'm done for the day," he said as he returned his weapon. It was him that called the shots around here, being the child of the two richest victors, the instructors dared not question his wants. As long as he trained hard enough and excelled through their exercises they didn't care what he did.

The reaping day was coming soon now, and all the other careers were busy training hard but Cato couldn't focus and that frustrated him to no end. Upon reaching the river he stripped his shirt and dunked his head underwater in an attempt to wash his mind of everything; Clove, the up-coming reaping, just everything.

Bringing his head up for a needed gasp of air, he felt as though he was being watched. Pushing his mop of hair aside his trained eyes scanned the area for movement. There in the shadows was a small form but he pretended not to notice and turned back to the river. "I had rather hoped you were drowning yourself," the music that haunted his mind took form again. "Sorry to disappoint," he spoke still facing the water because he knew that if he saw her he would be tongue tied again.

The tiny hairs on his arm shivered as she brushed past it to sit next to him, shoes already off and dipping her feet in the cool water. "Do you want to be reaped this year?" the question was innocent enough. Silence hung heavy around them for a moment as he waited for her answer. He was almost tempted to look at the angel just for a moment; to watch her expression in this silence. "I'm ready," but that didn't answer the question. "What about you?" he didn't know how to answer. Yes? That's what a career would say, and the word nearly slipped out of his lips, "I'm ready too."

And so they sat there in silence until the sun set.


	3. Third time's the charm

It was the fourth time he'd gotten his finger pricked. Another two and he could continue life in the district as normal; maybe become an instructor at the academy. A safe life. If he wasn't reaped of course. Vaguely he wondered what she was thinking, how she felt. He knew he shouldn't care, but he'd given up on trying not to a while ago. That day by the riverside might have been his last memory with her and if he ever felt anything it was worth remembering because he had a feeling about this year. It was going to be memorable to him somehow.

Joining the crowd of sixteen year old boys he was immediately bored. The atmosphere was restless and hostile as one could expect from putting testosterone-filled guys together. He stood still as the crowd milled, constantly moving around him. Normally he'd be doing the same, but this year something else held his attention. His angel - he had taken to calling her that now - had him frozen and tongue-tied as usual. The title was quite suiting; she was much like a dark, unforgiving ethereal being.

The wind was blowing through her hair and she had a dark smile on her face. He found it contagious and a light smirk graced his lips as he watched her. Constantly watching. It was what he did. He never found much cause to pay attention to anything other than battle and blood, but a pair of wings caught his eye.

"Attention everyone," the announcer finally spoke, bringing the crowds to a dead silence. The atmosphere felt tense and excited, many people anticipated the games in this district, unlike the others. A career always went in and they almost always came out. Still Cato's eyes were only on one person. She seemed to stand out from the other girls around her. She was the only angel there though, the only angel ever it felt. While everyone's eyes were on the video that played, she must've felt his watching because her eyes met his, and they just looked at each other.

Their last conversation played in his mind. He remembered how they both said they were ready but not whether they wanted to be reaped. Suddenly he didn't know if he was ready. The fighting and dying he didn't care about, it was the unspoken potential at an actual relationship for once in his life that stood out to him in this moment. He had feeling that he'd never feel this way about anyone ever again because no one else could capture his attention after this.

"Ladies first," those two words made him finally focus on the announcer. She seemed to be thinking the same because they broke eye contact at the same moment. His gaze was suddenly cold as ice, almost daring the purple-haired man standing in high-heeled shoes with buckles to draw out the one name he didn't want to hear. "Clove Reily," and in that moment he realized he never knew her last name. But it didn't really matter that he knew now because she was going into the games and he'd never get to know her more because even if she came back, why would she care a thing about him.

He could only watch as she walked up the steps to the stage, standing confidently in front of the crowd. "Now for the gentlemen," but none of them were gentlemen and they all knew that. It seemed almost synchronized, the way so many breaths where held in the exact same moment before the name was called. "Ja-" suddenly he knew what he needed to do. "I volunteer as tribute," his voice was calm and cut across the name that was partially spoken. He too was confident as he walked up the same steps his angel walked upon and faced the sea of faces.

Ice and angel were meant to be a pair, and the crowds cheered for them


End file.
